


The Only Constant

by purgatoan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Bullying, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Pre-Canon, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:05:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9783875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purgatoan/pseuds/purgatoan
Summary: Every hunter knows that nothing lasts forever. All things change: the place where you crash at, who do you sleep with, who do you hunt with, it’s all fluid. You can never be sure about anything. However, Dean Winchester was lucky enough to have one constant in his life. Even when he didn’t have Sam by his side or when John was away, he had the Impala. And this story is about the two of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I signed up for this one only a month after I posted my first thing so it seemed like a big challenge and it, indeed, was. Glad I worked up the courage to sign up, it’s been an amazing journey! I love the way it turned out and I couldn’t be happier with how the art for the fic looks like (you’re a total gem @maandarinee!). I really hope you’re going to like it, guys! Let me know what you think!

                                                               

Pretty car.

That’s what little Dean thought when his daddy took him for the first ride in a 1967 Chevrolet Impala. (At least, it was the first ride that Dean remembered. He didn’t know that he came back with his mom from the hospital in that car. He couldn’t possibly remember that.)

They were just driving around town, doing grocery shopping and having lots of fun. Even though Mary forbid John from buying Dean lots of candy and sweet things, he couldn’t resist. His son’s smile grew when he saw lots of cakes and pies in the window of the bakery. John couldn’t help but buy some apple pie and sit down to eat it with his little boy.

They got out of town and parked on one of the gorgeous fields, gentle wind making all the flowers sway like ocean waves and ruffling the kid’s hair. The view was truly amazing. Astounding even. Like from a fairytale.

When they were sitting on the car’s hood, Dean swinging his legs and shoving food in his mouth, the boy saw his face reflecting in the shiny car paint. The black polish was nearly glimmering in the sunlight and the boy smiled. That’s when he knew that Impala was beautiful. Just like that. No one had to explain to him. No questions asked, no answers needed. He simply knew.

Then, the boy found out that his dad’s car was also very fast.

They were driving to the hospital because Mary’s water broke and she was going to give birth to his brother. The car was filled with rock music, known to Dean very well by now. He was holding Mary’s hand because he knew he needed to be strong for her, like his daddy told him when he helped pack a bag for his mom, putting in everything she had prepared earlier and what would be necessary to have for her in the hospital. Even though her grip was so tight on Dean’s hand that it hurt a bit, he wasn’t going to show that. She needed him. He felt like it was his responsibility to comfort her.

When they got to the hospital and Mary was taken to the labor ward, John stayed with Dean in the waiting room, among all kinds of people also waiting for some news on members of their families. The boy was sitting in his father’s lap, tugging his little fists at the leather jacket his dad was wearing. Its smell was familiar; motor oil, gasoline and grease shadowing a bit the whole leathery scent, and it helped Dean feel like he wasn’t in a weird and scary place but at home.

After a while, a nurse called out for Mary Winchester’s family, announcing that she had given birth to a healthy boy and everything went as planned. Also, she added that they could see her. When they got into one of the hospital rooms, Dean saw a small bundle held closely by his mom. She passed the baby to John, a sheen of sweat covering her forehead, her beautiful wavy blonde hair sticking to her skin.

“Say hello to your little brother, Dean,” John said, crouching a bit so Dean could take a closer look at his sibling.

“Dad, what’s his name?” Dean asked, standing on his tiptoes, because he couldn’t see the baby very well. His dad was holding it too far from his reach.

“His name is Sam,” Mary answered, her smile bright, even though she was so tired that she could probably fall asleep at any minute. Then her husband handed the newborn to their son, knowing that the boy wouldn’t let his baby brother fall, trusting that he would keep the kid safe.

“Hi, Sammy. My name’s Dean and I’m your brother,” the young boy said, his brother’s fist tightening around his index finger, a grimace looking like smile appearing on the infant’s face. “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you. I promise.” John planted a soft kiss on Mary’s temple, happy that his family had gotten bigger. After all, it was one more person to love and they both knew they had enough of that love to give it to another kid.

After Sammy grew up a little, they would go to picnics together, driving around to find a perfect place, one where they hadn’t been in yet. It usually took a while, there wasn’t a lot of places to go around, but the need to explore all the beauty that was left in the world was almost unbearable. They searched for it, ending up in such mesmerizing locations that they didn’t even look real. But they were. They actually were.

And the Impala was magical to Dean, he believed that it wasn’t just some car because they could get everywhere they wanted nearly in a blink of an eye. At least it seemed so to the boy, as it wasn’t that fast in reality. But let’s let him believe that, shall we?

Dean thought that it would always be the four of them and their car. Always them, together, against the world. Unfortunately, he was wrong.

When Dean ran out of the house, little Sammy in his embrace, he started looking for the Impala without even realising it. After John picked them both up, they didn’t stop until they reached the car, their dad wanting to drive as far away as possible to keep them from danger, but he stopped once he saw the house blow up. It didn’t make sense to keep going, they were safe now. At least, he hoped so.

After the house fire, John spent the night with the boys in the Impala. They had nowhere to go, the car was the only thing that they had left. They all ended up in the backseat, covered with their father’s leather jacket, John’s arms snaking around Dean’s tiny silhouette while Dean was holding little Sammy as close as he could.

The boy wasn’t as scared as he thought he would be. After all, his mommy was gone and there was no one to say that the angels were watching over him and that nothing bad could happen to him. There was no one that would kiss him on his forehead or tuck him in and give him his favourite teddy bear. However, the smell of the leather, coming both from the jacket and the seats, calmed him down. Somehow, the kid knew that nothing bad could happen to them while they were inside that car.

How weird? He felt like he was at home even though he didn’t have one. Technically speaking, they were homeless but, in reality, they weren’t; they had the Impala and each other.

For a short period of time, before they found a new place to crash, they lived in the Impala. They slept there, they ate there, they kept all the things that they bought since the fire. And none of them complained. How could they?

Even though they didn’t have a real home, they still survived that tragedy, unlike Mary. And that was something to be thankful for, the fact that they still had each other, the three of them, even if they had nowhere to go.

Then, they started travelling around the country, John’s determination to find out what had killed Mary making him a bit insane. Dean learned how to keep himself busy inside the car, playing with plastic soldiers and legos, both of these things ending up stashed there forever, one by Sam, the other one by Dean.

The car was their only playground. But they wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

When Dean was old enough to go to school, John attempted to stay in one place longer than a week. It didn’t always work out, though. At the beginning, the boy made friends. He was always kind to everyone and, honestly, why would someone not like him? After a few times of having to move out before they truly settled in somewhere, Dean didn't know how to explain his life to other kids, so he gave up trying to make friends.

He didn’t care that other kids were laughing at him sometimes, for multiple reasons, mostly stupid ones, but there were some things that made the blood boil in his veins. One of them being the fact that other kids teased him for not having a mother and having a crazy father. At the beginning, he could talk the bullies down, but inevitably new ones appeared.

That’s why he gave up.

Dean learned really fast to not care and it was really sad. Deep down, it hurt him, and he found himself getting more and more aggressive, annoyed that they thought his father was crazy when he actually wasn’t. He was a hero. But no one would believe him if he told them that.

After a long day the kid loved climbing back into the car. It made him feel shielded and safe from all this staring and mocking. That’s what the Impala was for him. A shelter. The only safe place in a world full of monsters, not only those hiding in the dark but also people. Because people were sometimes more scary monsters than the real ones. They didn’t have any powers, but the words that spilled from their mouths could do more damage than long claws or sharp teeth.

Even though Dean didn’t care much about grades (they wouldn’t protect him from anything or anyone after all) he liked to read his textbooks in the Impala, trying to find some interesting stuff. Sometimes, he was rewarded with random but really useful facts, and that’s what kept him going. He didn’t have a TV there, so what was he supposed to do in his free time? Reading was the only type of entertainment he could offer himself.

He wasn’t the type who would memorise all dates required in History lessons, but he knew enough to be able to talk about the country’s history. He wanted to know just a little bit, just enough to keep the conversation going if he were to talk to someone about it.

As for literature, it was a bit different. He really liked escaping to other worlds by reading but, unfortunately, he always had something more important to do. That’s why the stories had to be put out to pasture.

One of the subjects that Dean was always looking forward to was Biology. Considering how many times dad came bruised and battered from a hunt, his bones broken, shoulders dislocated, Dean would love to know what and why that happened. Even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone.

No one ever thought of him as the smart one. He didn’t admit it, but it hurt him like a bitch.


	2. Chapter 2

After John saw that Dean was a really responsible kid, he left most of the chores for Dean. Somehow, he trusted that the kid would do it better than him. He couldn’t even find the thing that killed his wife, he wasn’t good enough, so how was he supposed to be good enough to take care of their innocent kids? No, he would only corrupt them and destroy everything good that was left in their boys.

When Dean got old enough to take care of Sammy alone, without any help, John asked him to go with him to the car’s trunk. The kid was a bit shocked when he saw all those weapons laying there, he didn’t know his dad had so many of them, but he knew that it was all necessary. The monsters were everywhere and they needed to have something with which they could defend themselves. It didn’t scare him. Not even a little bit.

It didn’t take long for Dean to learn how to shoot a gun. It wasn’t that big of a deal, at least, that’s how it felt to him. Taking off the safety, reloading, aiming and pulling the trigger. Easy.

Everything they might need to kill a monster was in the back of the car. It was like an arsenal, full of machetes, guns, knives, salt, holy water, and rosaries. It was an arsenal. There was no other way to describe it, actually.

And that’s how their life looked like. They went from town to town, their dad hunting, while they stayed at the motel and studied or watched cartoons. Everything around them was changing, the only constant in their life was an Impala.

Dean knew that they would always be driving around in this car, not in anything else. It was something that, deep down, he knew would never change. And he was right about it.

Eventually, the time for Dean’s first hunt came. John and Dean left Sam with Pastor Jim so he wouldn’t be in danger. It was a single vampire; experienced, but foolish and arrogant. He was leaving too many clues not to give away where he was, leaving a trail of bodies behind him like an Ariadne’s thread, leading Theseus out of the labyrinth.

They got into the Impala and drove for a few hours, a tape with a Led Zeppelin song playing on repeat over and over again, familiar notes calming the boy. Dean had no idea what to expect of the hunt. John told him he needed to be very careful but that was pretty much it. He knew that the only way to kill a bloodsucker was to decapitate him and that he couldn’t let the vampire feed him blood. It would make him turn, and he sure as hell didn’t want that to happen.

They arrived to the said town and parked outside of an abandoned warehouse. John got tipped off by one of his hunter buddies, claiming that it was going to be an easy job. That’s why he decided he could bring his older son with him and show him what the family business looked like.

The father and the son got out of their car, Dean’s grip on the machete strong and steady. He was never as focused as then, his mind sharp, his heart pumping the blood so fast through his veins that he could hear his heartbeat clearly. John gestured for Dean to follow him, and they entered the building slowly, looking around for an entrance. When they found one, they snuck in.

Suddenly, something popped up from shadows and pinned John to the floor. He flipped them both over, holding a machete over the creature’s neck. John put more pressure on the weapon making the blade sink into the flesh, blood spilling onto the floor, the head being separated from the body.

Before John got a chance to get up, another vampire appeared, his death grip on the hunter making him growl in pain. He threw John’s machete away, but he didn’t see the boy standing in the shadows, too busy trying to choke the grown hunter to death.

Dean knew what he had to do, so he didn’t hesitate. He was scared, he was just a kid after all, but the need to save his dad, along with copious amounts of adrenaline rushing through his bloodstream, clouded all his worries at that moment. The boy lunged forward quietly and swung the machete, the blade hitting one of the arteries and cutting through the monster’s flesh. Red liquid sprayed Dean’s clothes and his face; it felt a bit like rain. That gave John a chance to take a breath and he pinned the creature down, wrestling the weapon into the monster’s body, killing the monster for good.

Dean thought everything was okay until he saw that his dad’s shirt was red on the left side of his body. He must’ve been hurt. They both got out of that place, dragging the bodies with them so they could burn them. They didn’t bother building a pyre, only poured gasoline all over the corpses and John threw a match onto them, flames turning immense while consuming the flesh. Then they got into the Impala, John telling Dean to get a bag from the trunk.

The boy complied and brought the duffel to the backseat where his dad was laying. John took off his blood stained T-shirt, along with the flannel, and gestured for the boy to sit beside him. He was cut on the left side of his body, just under his ribs. He opened the bag, pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured a generous amount over the wound, wincing slightly when the alcohol reached the deeper layer of the skin. He gave the boy a needle and, holding the edges of the wound together, told him to sew through the skin.

Dean’s hands were shaking, but he did as he was told, always obedient, his father’s pain inducing groans that echoed in his ears. Fortunately, the cut wasn’t big and they were done quickly, his father sitting back in the driver’s seat, the boy riding shotgun.

It turned out the Impala was important in another way. It had everything inside needed to give stitches or wrap a wound. Just like a hospital.

Who would have thought that a car could save a life?

When Sammy was old enough to go to school, Dean couldn’t help but feel a little scared. He knew that kids would make fun of him for various reasons, mostly the fact that he was new, but he knew that he was never going to let anyone hurt his little brother.

At the beginning, everything was fine. Dean didn’t see Sam being bullied in school and when they were both getting into the Impala at the end of the day (or walking, if they were left alone while their dad was hunting) the kid seemed happy with how everything was going.

To be honest, Sammy’s excitement and joy brought Dean the same. When his brother was happy, he was happy as well. Just like that. They were like two halves of one whole, one’s emotions reflecting in the other’s feelings.

But, after some time, Sam entered the car hesitantly. When he sat in the backseat, dumping his backpack on his knees, his shoulders slumped, his head hanging low, Dean glanced at him and instantly knew that something was wrong. John didn’t notice anything, but it wasn’t surprising, really. Dean was the one who spent most of the time with his little brother, not their father.

He didn’t say anything throughout the ride but when they got to the motel Dean dragged Sam outside of the room, wanting to know everything.

It turned out that kids were making fun of Sam because he didn’t know something when the teacher asked him. Even though it was a really simple thing, there was no reason to be ashamed of it. What was worst was that he couldn’t possibly know the answer, as he wasn’t even attending the school two weeks ago. They moved just a few days prior.

After assuring the kid that it was okay to not know something and that he never should feel bad about it, Sam went back inside while Dean took a deep breath and looked around the parking lot.

Maybe if Dean was viewed by other people as someone who could protect his brother, no one would mock Sammy? Maybe if he was considered as a bad boy, no one would even dare to look at his little brother in a wrong way? Maybe they would think twice before they opened their mouth to talk shit about his genius brother?

That’s why Dean had to change his image a bit.

He was never a saint by any means but he tried to stay low at school, not to bring any unnecessary attention to him or his brother. He thought that it would make them safe and that no one would even notice that they were there, making them appear just like ghosts. Or, it would be better to say, not appear at all. Unfortunately, he was wrong.

That’s why Dean made it his plan to bring all the attention to him so his brother could be left alone.

He started acting like he didn’t care at school, not bringing any textbooks or notebooks to class, not bothering to listen to the teacher, not doing the homework, not taking notes, even though, deep down, he really wanted to study and be smarter than the impression he was giving. But he couldn’t blow his cover, he had to stick to it. For Sammy.

Not long after that, Dean’s strategy became more aggressive. Picking up random girls, making out with them at the back of the school, in the janitor’s closet or even in the Impala when he got a chance, not speaking to them after a few days and picking another one. Everything, anything, to make him look more like an asshole.

To be honest, it was probably a good idea. He knew that he couldn’t tell anyone the truth about the world of supernatural, so what was the point in pretending and trying to find a girlfriend or friends? He would surely move on, leaving all those people behind him, and he didn’t want to hurt anyone. That’s why he stuck to flirting and making out, never trying to build a relationship or friendship, never trying to get close to anyone, because that would never work. He was certain.

Also, he picked up one fight or two when he heard people gossiping about his brother and that was enough to make him look like he wasn’t afraid to stand up or beat the shit out of someone if they were about to do something bad to Sammy.

And that was enough.

Soon, the bad reputation was following him like a shadow, even overtaking his steps more and more often. Dean could tell that people grew afraid of him but if that meant that his brother wasn’t going to be treated badly then he would be happy to sacrifice himself for that.

After all, he promised his brother that nothing bad would happen to him after he carried him out of the house that night. He needed to keep that promise, no matter the cost.

Everything was going as planned and even Sammy started to believe that Dean didn’t want to study. However, whenever his big brother had a chance, he would skim through Sam’s textbooks when his young brother was sound asleep in the backseat, just to be sure that he’d be able to help the kid with his homework. He fell into the pattern after a while. It didn’t even take long to get used to it, to be honest. During the day he would pretend to be the bad guy and, every night, he would stay up late, just to be sure that he knew enough to help his little brother.

John and Dean didn’t have a lot of time to themselves. They had to take care of Sam, Dean had to go to school, and their father didn’t have a choice but to keep hunting the monster that killed Mary. Days off were so rare that they became a kind of a celebration.

                                                              

On some of these days they would drive away, as far away as they possibly could, wanting to see something other than a motel walls covered with ugly wallpaper. That’s how they ended up visiting lots of beautiful places, usually the ones that attracted lots of tourists.

They would make the most of the time that they had to visit those places. They’d try local food, if there was any, John would buy them small souvenirs and they’d take photos. Lots of photos. Because they didn’t have much left after the house was burnt, and John wanted them to make and have some pleasant memories.

John wanted to give them everything he could, even some kind of holidays. He tried. He tried really hard. He knew he wasn’t the father of the year, but he never stopped trying to be better.

On some other days, when the reason standing behind John’s day off was some kind of Impala’s shortcoming, John would ask Dean to help him with the car. The man knew that the kid liked the car a lot, he saw it in the way his eyes shone when he was looking at the 67’ Chevy, in the way his chin would raise up with pride every time they were passing some old, rusty car while driving in Baby. It was obvious, it was impossible to miss. And everyone who would look close enough would be able to notice.

That’s why John used to ask Dean for help, to tutor him, to show him how all the mechanisms worked, even letting him perform small and easy repairs on that beauty. Considering how sad their life got without Mary, without her smile, her laugh, her light, it was one of the not so many activities that made a sincere smile appear on kiddo’s face. And John wanted to make their kids smile as much as he could, given the circumstances.

He wanted their kids to be happy, and he was going to do his best to achieve that.

Dean grew to love that car. Somehow, he considered it a holy place, knowing that there was probably no such thing as angels and God. (How could there be God when people were being tortured and hurt by all the creatures they were hunting?)

He and Sam would never leave anything unnecessary in the Impala, like paper napkins from takeouts or other garbage. They kept her clean, trying their best not to leave crumbs or any stains on the leather seats or the floor.

Maybe they didn’t have a home to clean and take care of, and they were never taught how to do that, but they never, not even once, made a mess in the Impala.


	3. Chapter 3

One thing that didn’t look the same anymore was holidays. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Fourth Of July, Birthdays. They only reminded John of how Mary loved celebrating them, how she would prepare tons of delicious food and how they’d spend their time doing nothing, sitting together on the sofa or rolling around in bed. It only brought pain to his life, and he didn’t want to suffer more than he needed to.

That’s why he decided to pretend that holidays didn’t exist.

It wasn’t easy for Sam and Dean to go through holidays without any kind of celebration, without anything that would make those days stand out from the other ones. They didn’t look any different, boys didn’t get any presents, no one wished them anything, there was no dinner or fancy breakfast. Nothing.

Those days were just like all the other ones. Plain, boring.

That’s why Dean started to think of ways to make those days special. He didn’t do it for himself, no. He rarely thought about himself, to be honest. He was doing this for Sammy, as most of the things in his life.

He had never stole anything before, but he did so then. When they were in a motel during Christmas, he snuck out to one of the wealthy looking nearby houses, went inside and got away with some nicely wrapped presents. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything for Sammy there, only a doll, and it made Dean want to cry like a baby. What kind of a brother he was if he couldn’t even get a present for Sam?

And when his little brother gave him something wrapped not so neatly in a newspaper, telling that he wanted to give it to dad but he wasn’t there, Dean was, he did his best not to tear up. He was strong, he was tough, but this? It was making his heart shatter into smallish pieces. God, he loved that kid, he’d give everything for him.

After tearing the package, Dean saw something that reminded him of countless amulets he saw while he was reading uncle Bobby’s books. They usually offered protection to the ones who were wearing them, as they were the opposite of the hex bags, and Dean was sure this one would do the same for him. Not hesitating, he slipped it over his head, and smiled contentedly as the amulet found its place on his neck, his brother more happy than he saw him in a long time.

That’s why he decided he would always do something special for his brother every holiday.

He would sneak out and, using money left for him by John to pay for something to eat, buy a little gift for his brother.

A book, a toy.

It didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was the fact that it was a present. And it would make Sammy feel like all the other kids felt, having a normal home, life, and both parents.

Dean didn’t want anything else, only for his brother to feel normal, even though their life was as far from normal as possible.

One day, however, on Dean’s birthday, his dad told him that he had a present for the boy, while Sam was still at school. It was beyond unusual. Hell, it was the first time something like this had happened, and saying that Dean was surprised would be an understatement.

Even though he wanted to ask his dad what exactly he meant and what was going on, he followed him out of the motel room and into the parking lot. When John opened the door, sat on the driver’s seat and gestured kid to climb into his lap, it all made sense.

Dean was going to learn how to drive Impala.

In all honesty, there couldn’t have been a better gift for the boy. After some tries, Dean had gotten the hang of shifting gears and turning the steering wheel just right, John’s face lighting up with a sincere smile Dean didn’t see often.

That was it.

That was something that normal families were doing, something that Dean could tell everyone and not be ashamed or scared that they would call him insane. It was a mundane thing, father teaching his son how to drive a car. It almost felt like they were ordinary, just a dad and his boy, not a hunter trying to avenge his wife’s death, and his kids, forced to follow and live the same lifestyle.

And that was only the beginning.

More often than not, they would do it, and considering that Dean was always fascinated with this car, learning was incredibly easy for him. In no time, he knew everything.

How to start the Impala, how to stop her, how to take turns, how to park in tight spaces, how to turn around. He knew everything you could ever think of. It was almost like the car was an extension of his hand, taking orders not from the boy’s body but from his thoughts.

That’s how incredibly in sync the car and the boy were.

And they became inseparable.

For some time, nothing changed. Dean, Sam and John were driving around the country together. Their dad was solving cases while they were going to school and, more often than not, helping with hunts by studying the lore or, when they got older, taking part in actual hunts.

But, one day, something surprising happened. Something that made Dean question everything. Something that crashed his world into teeny, tiny pieces. Something that shook his beliefs and made him reevaluate the way he was looking at their lives.

Sammy left.

But it was easy to predict, John and Dean should’ve paid more attention, but they didn’t. And that was the reason they missed obvious signs.

They didn’t notice that Sam started studying harder, trying to boost his grades up as much as possible.

They missed the fact that he was asking for recommendations from every single teacher that taught him before they left every town.

They didn’t see it. Or, maybe, they didn’t want to see it. They couldn’t imagine their lives without Sam, especially Dean.

And on one evening, Sam announced that he got admitted to Stanford, and he was leaving the next day.

To say that John and Dean were shocked would be an understatement.

They both wanted Sam to be happy, to have a normal family, but they never considered the fact that he would want to leave them. It didn’t cross their minds, not even once.

That night, they had the biggest fight.

Deep down, Dean knew that they wouldn’t convince Sam to stay, that kid was too stubborn to give up anything he set his mind to, but they tried to do that anyway. Lots of unnecessary and harsh words were spoken; John was afraid that something bad was going to happen to Sam while he was far away from them, that’s why he tried so hard to act out on Sam’s loyalty and guilt.

But it didn’t work. If only, all of this just made Sam more angry. It assured him that he was doing the right thing by leaving his family behind. He thought they wanted him to continue working in the family business; he was so blinded with his goals that he didn’t see they wanted to keep him close to them to protect him. He left that night, slamming the motel door behind him, carrying all of his belongings (and there wasn’t much of them) in a backpack, tears streaming down his face when he thought that he was a black sheep of the family.

The rebel. The disobedient one.

That night, Dean got into the Impala, and drove away without John for the first time. He needed to clear his head. He had to collect himself somehow, being torn apart between staying with his father and going after his brother to start a new life with him.

He knew he couldn’t leave his father. He had to stay with him and help him save people. That was an important job. And, to be honest, he thought Sam would be better off without them. Not in the safety sense, but Dean considered himself toxic, impure.

He didn’t consider himself normal, no. He knew he wasn’t normal. Hell, he was as far from normal as it could be possible.

Nobody normal knew how to shoot a gun as a kid. Nobody normal was beheading vampires before they learned all the American President’s names. No kid was unafraid of all those creatures the fairytales were featuring as villains. No teenager knew how to create false FBI badges or credit cards.

But there was one normal thing he could do to take his mind off this mess.

Driving. Driving was mundane and it was his escape.

So, that night, he drove around the town, not thinking where he was going exactly. Just driving. Effortless, thoughtless, and calming.

And it worked just like it was supposed to.

Once Dean parked in front of a motel they were staying at, he felt better. He felt more calm.

For the first time in a long while, he knew what he had to do.

Save people.

And that became an answer which didn’t change for a long, long time. Actually, we could say it never changed. That’s what Dean’s purpose became. Saving people. Hunting things bumping in the night. Being a part of the family business.

And that was it.

From then on, every day looked exactly like the previous one. John and Dean would get up, eat something (most often the leftovers from the night before), get dressed, and get into the Impala, driving toward another place where people needed their help.

They didn’t call Sam, even though they had his number. They didn’t want to distract him, they didn’t want to drag him away from the new life, a normal life, he just started, and that’s why they were only checking up on him once in awhile.

They found out where he lived; it wasn’t difficult to track down someone they knew so well; but they didn’t even think about trying to contact him. They knew Sam didn’t want to get back to the hunting life and, as much as it hurt them, they grew to respect it.

However, they would appear in front of his campus once in awhile and wait for him to come out of the building. Once they would see him, looking happy and content, and be sure that he was safe, they would drive away, without even letting him know that they were there in the first place.

Why would they? He didn’t need to know.

It would simply distract him from the normal life he’d been leading.

That was the only thing that made some days different than others. Nothing changed for a long time. But, one day, on Dean’s birthday, something important happened. Something that shaped up the rest of his life.

When Dean got back to the motel room, he saw a car parked on a space near Impala. He was shocked when he saw his dad getting out of that car and walking toward him.

John told Dean to open his palm and dropped something on it, wishing Dean happy birthday with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and entered the motel room they were currently staying at. Once Dean saw what he was holding, he couldn’t hold back a huge grin that appeared on his face.

He got the keys to the Impala.

You probably thought that this could be the end of that story. A story about a man and a car, finally getting together after years. But that was barely the beginning of Dean and the Impala’s journey.

And, from then, a lot of things changed.

When John and Dean found themselves a case, they weren’t always solving it together. More and more often, Dean was being seconded to the easier ones while, at the same time, John was somewhere else doing something else; more difficult or dangerous.

Or, when one of them was in danger, the other one could easily get to the place where the one was and help him in no time.

It was, above all, convenient.

But it also gave Dean some sense of privacy, considering they always slept in one room and were around each other all the time.

The Impala became his private place. His Sanctuary. He could be completely and utterly himself while he was in Baby.

                                                              

Right. Baby.

This nickname came from nowhere and stuck. That simple.

You could think that there’s a backstory behind it, but, funnily enough, there wasn’t.

And, because Dean considered the Impala a somehow holy place in his life full of abomination, he didn’t bring girls there.

He was young, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t like sex but he never did it in the Impala. Never.

It was a boundary he never crossed.

It changed when he met Cassie Robbinson.

He was working a case near a college campus; in Athens, Ohio; and, one day, after he was getting back to his motel, he saw a beautiful girl standing at the bus stop, soaked through the bone because it was raining cats and dogs.

Without thinking much, he pulled over and offered her a ride, explaining that he didn’t want her to get sick. She hesitated a bit, but Dean assured her that he was no criminal or murderer, but an FBI agent. She flashed him a shy grin then, introduced herself as Cassie, and climbed inside, taking off her wet jacket immediately.

Dean noticed that she was shaking like a leaf, so he reached to the passenger’s seat and covered the girl with his leather jacket (it wasn’t his jacket, John just forgot to take it with him after he left it when they met up last time) to which she reacted with a shy smile. They started talking about pretty much everything and, surprisingly, they didn’t seem to run out of topics. The conversation flowed naturally between the two of them; it was something that never happened to Dean.

Once he reached the college campus, she thanked him for the ride, offering a coffee as a way to return the favor (also, she thanked him for not killing her, to which he reacted with a full body laugh). Dean didn’t think twice; he grabbed the piece of paper lying somewhere in the glove compartment, and scribbled his phone number on it with a pen, handing it to the girl afterward.

He didn’t think she would call him. He was just a stranger, after all, and he couldn’t offer her much, only some lies and, the best case scenario, a few days of romance. But she did call the next day, they went out together and that’s how it started.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he would leave soon but she seemed to understand it as he told her that he was living in a motel.

She was smart, he had to admit. That’s one of the reasons he felt drawn to her. Cassie was beautiful, of course, her long dark curly hair and ebony skin making her look like a goddess, but it was her wit and confidence that made Dean feel something else for her.

Something beyond pure attraction.

And that’s how they ended up after one of their “dates” in the backseat of the Impala, Cassie’s body sprawled on the leather seat under Dean’s, their clothes discarded somewhere on the floor, hot breaths mixing in the small space, making the windows steamy.

There were no words spoken, only moans and ragged breaths filling the silence. It was more than just having sex; they were connected on more personal level, they already knew each other so well it seemed impossible.

One look in Dean’s eyes and Cassie knew that he wanted her; all of her; more than everything.

One look in Cassie’s eyes and Dean knew that she trusted him and wanted to give herself to him completely.

That night was their last.

After they woke up in the morning, their limbs tangled under the blanket Dean threw on them before they fell asleep, Dean started to tell Cassie everything about his life.

He didn’t know why he did that; he never told anyone; but he felt that she might understand him. He hoped she might understand him. He thought he could trust her as he felt that she was special. She was different from all the other girls he’d been with throughout all that time.

He told her about hunting. He told her about the monsters. He told her everything.

She listened, getting more terrified and scared with every sentence. She didn’t show it at first, just nodded quietly when Dean finished his speech and asked her if she understood him, but, deep down, she thought that he was lying.

She thought that something must’ve been wrong with him. That he was crazy.

Nobody normal hunts monsters.

She was sure it couldn’t have been real.

And that’s why, the next day she broke up with him, telling him that she couldn’t stand this madness.

It left Dean a bit more broken than he already was, showing him that he could trust no one and assuring him that he would never find someone who would be willing to understand him and his life completely.

He already knew he wasn’t normal but he thought he was normal enough to have someone close to him until the end of the line.

Guess he was wrong. Not the first time in his life.

He drove out of the town as fast as possible, trying to leave the pain and sorrow behind, with a painful memory of his first true love and, probably, the last one, carved deep in his heart.


	4. Chapter 4

For a long time, nothing changed.

He was hunting with John, taking more and more solo hunts upon himself, helping his father find the leads that would allow them to locate that monster that murdered his mother.

John passed him the gun that Dean always looked in awe at, along with John’s leather jacket that was a bit too big for Dean that the boy used to borrow from his father once in awhile.

It felt weird, the only present he ever got from his father was Impala, but he didn’t question it. Why would he?

His father had to have a reason to give all of it to him, right?

But, one day, when he was finishing a hunt and called his father to tell him that the job is done, he got to the voicemail.

That wasn’t unusual, really, as during chasing or being chased by a monster a hunter isn’t exactly able to pick up a phone, that’s why Dean didn’t worry.

At least, for a while.

He gave up trying to call his father for some time, deciding to get back to the motel and rest for a bit.

When Dean woke up the next day, quite late as he didn’t have anything to do, he immediately reached for his mobile and tried to call his father again.

This time, he was met with a new voicemail recording.

However, something didn’t add up, as he knew that his father wouldn’t bother to change it if there wasn’t a serious reason. He had more important matters on his plate, trying to track the beast that killed his wife the main concern. Why did he change that recording, then?

Dean wasn’t the best hacker or a computer person, but he knew some things and it turned out to be enough to decrypt the file and discover the hidden meaning behind it, the meaning that made the blood turn cold in his veins. There was a looped sound in there, a sentence being spoken by a woman, saying: I can never go home.”

Dad was in serious trouble.

Dean tried to work around the clues that Dad left him, not that there was many of them, only the last hunt Dad was working on, but that didn’t bring him closer to the solution. He was going nuts, knowing that he couldn’t help John when he had problems.

It was maddening, really.

He and John were always there for each other through those past few years, they always helped one another, and they knew they could count on the other one to have each other’s back.

That’s when something came to his mind.

He knew that it wasn’t right. That he shouldn’t have thought about it in the first place. That he should let go of that idea.

But he couldn’t. And it turned out to be so tempting that, without a second thought, he packed all his belongings and got in Baby.

He drove as fast as he could, ignoring the speed limits and slamming the gas pedal hard.

He had to, otherwise he would give up trying to contact his brother at all. He had to follow his gut, which was telling him that Sam wouldn’t be mad and that he would help him find their dad.  
After all, they were always better together than apart.

He knew where Sam lived so, thankfully, he didn’t have to call his brother prior, to ask him for his address. That conversation wouldn’t have gone so well, considering how their ways had parted.

As he was driving, Dean let his thoughts wander to their childhood and, as messed up as it was, he wouldn’t trade it for anyone else’s. Because, even though he didn’t have a normal home and family, he had Sam and Dad. And that was everything he ever needed.

Just when he arrived in front of Sam’s apartment he realised how late it was.

Also, it came to him that maybe Sam didn’t want anything to do with them. And, maybe, he would tell him to go to hell or even further, not even wanting to listen to what he had to say, as, frankly, he didn’t have much to tell.

Finally, Dean told his brain to shut up and took a few deep breaths. He grasped the door handle and got out of the Impala, then entered the building, his steps echoing on the staircase.

He didn’t call to the door like a normal person would, probably afraid that Sam would shut the door in his face, but he picked the lock and snuck into the apartment, trying to locate where Sam was.

What he didn’t expect was for Sam to take him for a burglar and try to pin him to the ground.  
It felt like they were kids again, sparring to take away the remote from the other, and Dean started to smile involuntarily, grinning widely at his brother once he had him pinned to the ground.

When Sam realised that he had mistaken Dean for someone else, they both got up from the floor, flinching when someone turned the lights on.

Once Dean turned his head, he saw Jess, Sam’s girlfriend. He faked surprise, because he already saw her with Sam, but what he didn’t fake was shock. She was shockingly beautiful. So beautiful that he wanted to congratulate his brother straight away for having an amazing taste.

But, also, he felt jealous. Jealous, because Sam chose this girl and some college over family and the family business. He was torn apart, to be honest, because he wanted Sam to be happy, it was obvious, but the only thing that he wanted and what didn’t happen, was to be included in that happiness.

Once Dean told Sam the reason for his arrival, his brother froze.

That’s what Sam never considered as a possibility.

As bad the relationship between John and Sam was, Sam always considered John indestructible.

That’s why those few words, ”Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days,” made him take Dean up on the offer to help him find John.

Sam wanted to explain everything to Jess so bad, a few times he got really close to spilling all the family secrets to her, but he never did. He was simply afraid that she would call him a freak and run away, as far away from him as it was possible.

But he was happy. He was the happiest man in the world, and he didn’t want it to end.

That’s why he didn’t tell her anything, only said that he would be home soon, in time to go to that law school interview he was excited for, and she smiled softly at him, somehow understanding that he had some secrets that she would probably never get to know.

But it was okay.

She could wait.

Because she didn’t want to pressure him into doing something he didn’t want to do, to make him do something he clearly wasn’t comfortable doing.

She was happy with him, happier than ever before, and she didn’t want to destroy it.

Little did they know that the happiness would end right there, on the night that Dean came to their apartment.

Even though Dean knew that Sam wouldn’t get back to hunting, Sam told him that before they headed off, he couldn’t help but hope for something to happen that would make his brother get back to the family business.

What did he hope for? He had no idea at all, he just wanted everything to return to how it was supposed to be, meaning the three of them against the world.

Saving people. Hunting things. The family business.

He knew that the chance for it to actually happen was smaller than miniscule, and he felt incredibly selfish for even having that thought in the first place, but even that didn’t stop him from dreaming, as he was looking at his brother, sitting next to him in the Impala while they headed to Jericho.

It felt good, doing something with Sam, no matter that the reason for it was actually shitty. Because Dean couldn’t consider his father’s disappearance as a good thing, right?

Once they arrived where they were supposed to be, they went to investigate the last victim’s girlfriend, Amy. While doing so, Dean noticed that he and Sam had the same train of thought, just like it was before Sam headed off to Stanford. That made Dean really happy, knowing that maybe there was a chance for the two of them to start being brothers again.

That’s because he couldn’t actually call the past few years when they were apart a good time for their brother-brother relationship. It was hell, to be honest.

After his little brother left, Dean couldn’t bring himself to call Sam, knowing that he would end up begging him to return home, to him and John. It was like a part of him was taken by Sam when he left.

His whole life, the only thing he lived by were his Dad’s words, spoken on multiple occasions: “Watch out for Sammy.” How the hell was he supposed to watch out for his younger brother when he wasn’t even in the same place as him?

And that’s why Dean was somehow happy when it turned out he had to ask Sam for help, because it meant that they would spend some time together, just like in old times.

That was something Dean would never say no to.

Dean didn’t expect Sam to crush his heart into tiny little pieces when he said that maybe that whole quest with trying to track Mary’s murderer wasn’t worth it, when they went to the bridge that the police found the last victim’s vehicle on. He knew that his little brother didn’t know their mother at all, he didn’t have any obligation to miss her or want her avenged, but he never expected such words to come out of Sam’s mouth.

Without thinking, he pinned his brother to the barrier, not knowing what the hell he was doing, those hazel eyes that usually held so much respect and awe staring at him in shock.

Did he want to punch him? Did he want to do something to him?

No, not really.

Dean was simply on edge, a small thing could make him explode, and those few words were the last straw. However, he managed to quickly compose himself, only saying to Sam that he shouldn’t talk about Mary that way.

And there was one particular (or, maybe many) reasons as to why Dean said that.

Simply speaking, Dean didn’t have many happy memories, only a few of them deserved to be called like that, and the majority of them contained his childhood, when Mary was alive and well.

She was his angel, a light in the unbearable darkness that threatened to consume him whole once he started hunting. A memory of her never failed to bring him out of the darkest depths of his mind, that’s who Mary was to him.

She was a reminder that life could be beautiful and that it was worth it to be a good person, to help others.

He could call her his moral compass, perhaps. Yes, that term fit really well.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a woman jumping from the bridge and into the water, dressed in all white. That made him snap out of his daze.

Dean let go of Sam, and they both ran closer to where the woman was previously, hoping to find some evidence. They didn’t find anything, though.

A roar of Impala’s engine made both of them look at the other side of the bridge with surprise written on their faces. Dean immediately inserted his hand into the pocket, trying to find the car keys and, once he did find them, he knew that something was off.

Taking a closer look at the driver’s seat, he realised there was no one there, so it all became clear as to who was driving that car. Or, rather, what was driving that car.

Turning around, they began to ran away from Baby, hoping that they wouldn’t get hit by a crazy ass ghost.

Some people would’ve been terrified, scared for their lives even, seeing a car with non-existent driver coming after them, but Dean only hoped that his Impala would come out without a scratch. It wasn’t just a car for him, it never was.

After they got away (not so easily, because Dean had to jump to the somewhat muddy river), they got to the nearest motel, hoping to get a room. Luck was on their side that day, as they managed to find a room John was booked in not that long ago and, after taking a look at everything that was there, it turned out John came to the same conclusion as them: Constantine was a woman in white.

It shouldn’t have brought Dean that much happiness, not really, because it wasn’t that big of a deal. However, when Sam called him a jerk, just like he used to when he bickered with Dean when they were both still with John, it brought a smile upon Dean’s face, and an immediate answer (Bitch) was being thrown his brother’s way.

Maybe their relationship stood a chance after all?

Getting arrested by cops while going out to get some food wasn’t exactly in Dean’s plans, but, as always, Sam managed to handle all of it flawlessly, interviewing Constance’s husband in the meantime and giving a call to the police to drag them away from the police station.

That gave Dean a chance to get away, taking John’s Journal with him.

Right. Another thing to add to a long list of the suspicious things.

John’s Journal was something that his dad never left behind, as it contained all the info about every monster that their father ever faced. It was a treasure and Dean had trouble understanding why it would be left behind. That didn’t add up at all.

He would have time to think about it later, considering that he had to save Sam’s ass from the crazy ghost bitch, who kidnapped the Impala and his brother, and drove them both to her old home.

Gun full of salt bullets did the job just right and, with the help of Impala ramming into the house, they managed to get the woman’s ghost there as well, which resulted in Constantine and her children’s ghosts disappearing.

First case and they already won.

It looked promising, to say the least. Dean’s hopes about getting Sam back skyrocketed again. Unfortunately, once they got back to the Impala, after examining her and agreeing that, despite crashing the house, not much was broken, Sam demanded to drive him back to Stanford, one again justifying his decision with the job interview he was supposed to have. Nothing seemed to convince him, not even the fact that Dean knew where they should look for their father again after discovering that a bunch of numbers in the Journal were coordinates.

Not having much of a choice, Dean agreed, even though his heart was breaking.

He thought that, at least, he would be able to go back to the memory of this hunt after they were going to part their ways again.

The drive passed too soon for Dean’s liking, they were in front of Sam and Jessica’s apartment in no time.

After saying their goodbyes, Sam turned on his feet and started walking toward the front door, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to drive away. He just couldn’t do it.

At first, he kept staring at his brother’s silhouette disappearing in the building, but then he just sat there, in his car, and kept battling with himself. He fought with himself not to get out of the car, go to Sam and beg him, again, to return to hunting.

He knew he couldn’t do it, but he wasn’t able to stop fantasizing about it, either.

They’d make a great team if they were hunting together. They were like two halves of one whole, complementing each other in all the aspects.

So, he kept daydreaming, knowing that he would have to drive away sooner or later.

A loud whoosh brought him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the building and saw the flames coming out of one of the windows, the sight triggering his memory.

Suddenly, he wasn’t in Impala anymore. He was a little boy, standing in front of their home house while it burned, along with his mother inside of it.

He didn’t remember running into Sam and Jess’ apartment at all, all he knew was that he, somehow, got inside and started dragging his brother outside as the latter was screaming and crying.

He couldn’t help but feel guilty after he saw his brother’s girlfriend pinned on the ceiling, her body burning. The image shocked him and, suddenly, he didn’t see Jessica on the ceiling, but his mom, as he didn’t see her die when their family home was burning. That sight was spared from him until then.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been wishing for Sam to leave Jess. Maybe he shouldn’t have been hoping for him to stop wanting normal, apple pie life. Maybe it was all his fault, her death and his little brother’s pain and tears?

He felt terrible, but, also, a bit relieved, as he knew that if he wasn’t there, if he didn’t stay a while longer in the car, Sam would’ve probably be dead as well, considering that he couldn’t make himself leave his girlfriend’s side, only Dean’s presence there saved him.

As they were outside of the building, watching the flames being put down by the firefighters some of the neighbours have called, Dean was observing his brother, and he was getting more and more terrified with what he’s been seeing.

At first, Sam just kept crying and shouting, cursing whoever did this to go to hell and never come back. Then, he collapsed onto his knees, sobbing and muttering Jessica’s name over and over again, Dean swore he could also hear his brother apologising Jess for this, as he already started blaming himself for her death. After that, Sam got up from the lawn, wiped his tear-stained face with a sleeve, and started walking toward his older brother.

Dean thought that Sam would punch him.

After all, if Dean didn’t appear, asking for help with finding their Dad, Jess would probably still be alive. But he never expected Sam to trap him in a body-crushing hug, that was as far from what he’s imagined would happen as possible. Nevertheless, he pulled his little brother closer , just like he did when he ran out of their burning house with a small Sammy in his embrace.

They stayed like this for a while, Dean’s hand rubbing Sam’s back, as if it would help Sam calm down. Then, his not-so-little-anymore brother pulled away, opened the door to the backseat of the Impala, where they left a shotgun that Dean shot Constantine with. Sam grabbed it, opened the trunk of Baby and tossed it inside, closing the trunk immediately.

“We’ve got work to do,” he said and Dean knew that nothing would ever be the same.

And, from that day, the Impala became Sam’s safe place as well, even if he didn’t realise it at first.

When they both climbed into the car, shutting the door behind them in sync, Dean let himself dream.

He let himself hope that they would always be together and that they would find dad, then continue hunting, as that was what they were meant to do from the day they were born.

Then, Dean started the car and drove off the sidewalk, leaving all the worries behind.

He could finally be happy, as he wasn’t alone. Sam was with him, and that mattered the most.

And, maybe, they didn’t need to look for a safe place, for a home that they could go back to and feel comfortable

They already had home, had shelter, and it smelt like leather, gunpowder and gasoline.

                                                              


End file.
